Nothing Gold Can Stay
by laladollie
Summary: Everything was going to be alright. I tried to tell myself that. I really did. But even amidst the the rain and the pain that seemed to surge through my entire body, I knew it was a lie. Nothing more than a bittersweet lie. And I couldn't have been more accurate.


Everything was going to be alright.

I tried to tell myself that. I really did.

But even amidst the the rain and the pain that seemed to surge through my entire body, I knew it was a lie. Nothing more than a bittersweet lie.

And I couldn't have been more accurate.

I hit the pavement hard, the breath built up in my chest escaped my lips. I wheezed, lifting my head just enough to see the rest of the gang enclosing around me. "Kid, you alright? C'mon, we gotta get going," I didn't have to look to know that it was Sodapop. My older brother, the middle of the Curtis boys. He was a couple of years older than me, but we got along real well. You could say that he had movie-star good looks, and the girls at the gas station he worked at would tell you the same. Soda was one of those people who didn't need alcohol to get drunk; He could get drunk on life itself. It's no wonder why him and I are so close. I snapped out of my thoughts when I felt somebody gripping my sides; Before I had time to reply, or get up, a pair of arms roughly pulled me up, but supported me as I stood. Darry, my oldest brother. Darry was handsome, but not quite the same as Soda. His eyes were cold, unlike Soda's. He was strict and a little rough, although I guess that comes with taking care of two younger brothers at the age of twenty while trying to juggle two jobs; One of them being roofing. It wasn't his fault, and I knew he only wanted the best for Soda and I, especially since mom and dad aren't here anymore. I shook his arm off, wiping the dirt and the raindrops off of my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

I bit my lip. I wasn't fine; I was beat up and bloody, my clothes were torn. Black surrounded my eyes; My hair, face and clothes were soaked with mud and rain. The cold night air seemed to envelope me as I pushed forward and began to run, ignoring the sake of my well-being. Headlights and the unmistakable ring of sirens tore through the darkness. I could feel my heart beating faster. There wouldn't be much time until they found Dally. After the rumble tonight, and Johnny's death, he would be no match for a couple of fuzz. Not with the state he was in.

Johnny.

I shuddered. I could feel my eyes watering, whether it was my reaction to the wind stinging my face as I ran or because of the mention of Johnny, I wasn't sure. I thought about Johnny for a minute. He was about Soda's age, but he could probably pass off as a 13 year old if he wanted to. He was short, thin, and tanned. Johnny was really shy, timid; He had been that way as long as I can remember. His parents weren't ideal, they fought all the time, so loud that you could hear them even from the lot. Johnny's dad beat him, but I've never heard Johnny do so much as yelp. Johnny could go missing for the night, and they wouldn't care. He could go missing for a year, and they wouldn't care: Johnny accepted that, and had long gotten used to it; But I know it still hurt him.

Johnny died tonight.

Dallas had taken it the worst. I was used to him getting arrested for all sorts of things, but tonight was different. Dallas was cold, mean, hard; He didn't need anybody. He could never love anybody. But he had a weak spot for Johnny. We all did; He was like the gang's pet. But there was something between Johnny and Dally. He knew how bad Johnny had it, and probably wanted to protect him. But Johnny was gone, and Dally couldn't get revenge. He couldn't do anything.  
So he had exploded, and now he was owning up to it.  
I picked up my pace, moving as fast as my legs would allow. I could hear the sirens getting closer with every step. I closed my eyes and pressed forward, balling my hands into fists inside of my jacket pocket. I held my breath as a car door slammed, followed by a remark, from whom I assumed, was Dallas. I knew he would probably be armed with something, whether it be a switchblade or a gun. The police warned him, and I wished he would have given in. But that wasn't in Dallas' nature. He didn't listen to anyone.

A cry cut through the air. The sound of bullets ripping through the sky forced me to a stop. I looked around; The rest of the gang stood still. My heart sunk. In front of me were two police cars, and two police men. Dallas was out of sight. I glanced over my shoulder to Darry, then to the others, who all seemed just as lost as I was. I turned to face the cruisers; Dally slowly emerged from behind one of them. His jacket was stained with blood on one side, and a small trail of blood was dried from the corner of his mouth. The police stood still, watching, waiting for Dallas' next move, as did the others. The silence was worse than the sirens.

Shots.

More shots fired through the air; I couldn't watch. I burried my face in the sleeve of my jacket, preparing myself for the worst. I remembered Dally pulling Johnny through the window of the burning church. Dally giving us his gun, although it could mean jail for him. Dally risking his life for us, trying to keep Johnny out of trouble. And there he was, fighting for his life because he was so isolated. So self reserved.

Solitary.

But if he opened up to one of us, this wouldn't be happening. Another cry made it clear to me that this wasn't all a bad dream. This was real, and I had to accept it, or else I might end up like Dally; Hesitantly, I opened my eyes.

The pitter-patter of rain mixed with the muffled screams of those around me as I dropped to my knees, the damp mud smearing across my jeans. My vision was a blur; I choked back the tears and tried to steady my breath, which had been coming out in short painful gasps. A sharp, throbbing sensation made it's way through my head, regretfully, my eyes wandered back to the scene distanced no more than three or so feet away from me. A body lay infront of me; Crumpled up with his arms clasped around his stomach, where blood was flowing freely from an open wound and seeping through the gaps in his arms. His chest rose and fell in sharp gasps, his eyes fluttering open every so often when a gurgled cough would escape him. I had only a split moment's glance before the gang had surrounded him. From my position on the ground, I was able to shift and see the suddenly still body that still lay crumpled on the ground, surrounded by thick, slowly spreading puddle, of what I assumed to be his own blood.

My eyes flickered through the faces of those infront of me. Near the back of the group, I saw a leather jacket. Worn out; one side was caked in blood, the other in dirt. The owner of the jacket's visible skin was bruised, bloody, but not in any compare to the one mere feet away on the ground. My gaze slowly wandered up to his face.

That unmistakable face.

Hard, cold mean;

Dallas Winston.

My thoughts raced back to the body which lay infront of me.


End file.
